Suited

After eight years as a professional poker player, Cashel St. Martin needed a break. The endless glow and ceaseless action of Vegas had lost its luster and his interest. He missed his family and still wore the bracelet Isabela had woven for him all those years ago. In fact, he’d never taken it off. He was willing to give all of his success away for a chance to patch things up with the only woman he’d ever loved.

Isabela had thought of him every hour of everyday since he’d been gone. She’d loved him and she knew he’d loved her but he’d just left it all behind and never once looked back. Now he was back and wanted to pick up where they’d left off all those years ago. He must be insane. After all, this wasn’t Vegas. Relationships required trust, not luck. Hell, he’d been lucky she hadn’t punched him in his too handsome face.

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Isabela Petrovich exited her car in her cream-colored peplum sheath dress belted at the waist with a small black ribbon that made her feel ultra feminine. Isa liked to dress nicely now that she could afford better clothes, and just because she had a man’s job, that didn’t mean she needed to dress like a man. She’d grown up in foster care. She’d never been bought anything with her in mind; everything had been handed down. She looked for Camp’s SUV, but didn’t see it. She did see a behemoth of a black Chevy truck. Her body started to thrum and tingle; she’d known that feeling many years ago. Cash was in the big truck.

Confirming her suspicions, he exited the vehicle and strode toward her, looking more like sin than he ever had. Oh shit, game on. The wind picked up his long hair and blew it over his brow and into his eyes. His pouty mouth displayed those magical white teeth and ridiculously delicious lips. She lifted her hand to fan at her face and was immediately appalled. Before she gave away how affected she was, she stilled her hand. She took a deep breath and shook her head to clear it of the heady thoughts. But it was no use. When he stood before her, his arresting blue eyes fringed with thick dark lashes had her right back where she’d been all those years ago—at his beck and call.

How many times had she thought that were she to see him again she’d punch him square in his too handsome face? But with him standing before her, she’d been rendered immobile. Suddenly all her hate, anger, and hurt didn’t matter so much. He was home, he was safe, and for that she was thankful. She’d lost too many people, and the issues she had with him were put aside for the time being as she thanked God that he’d somehow been led back to her.

Her stomach turned as her mind went to thoughts of other women. The women from television—he’d been linked to so many. Was he in a committed relationship? Why did she even care? God, the pain of how he’d left her to deal with her issues on her own was still fresh. He’d never even once looked back, and so she’d kept her secrets. After all, he’d made it clear that he no longer wanted them, wanted nothing of hers. She’d given him everything, and she knew he’d given her the same. During their three-year relationship, he’d always been accessible. He was the love of her life, and he’d shown her so much tenderness in those years. They’d spent every day together, hour upon hour, never once hating a second of it.

The only question she needed answered was how could he walk away from it all, no questions, no contact. He’d closed the book and never once opened it again. Once he was done, he was done.

She attempted to speak, but no words came from her throat. She cleared it and tried again. “Cash, it’s been so long.”

“Isabela, you’re breathtaking. God, look at you.”

Isa’s breathing became shallow and her heartbeat erratic. The wind picked up and mingled their colognes, carrying the evocative scent up to her nose. She was burning for him already. He seemed to be feeling the same way, if his erection was any evidence. If he made the first move, she’d fall at his feet and let him do what he wanted with her. What she wanted.